


Who Are You

by Liena67



Series: From the end a new beginning [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adlock, F/M, Jealousy, Love, Parentlock, Passion, Thriller, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-11 09:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liena67/pseuds/Liena67
Summary: this is the fifth long story in this series. Post fourth season, I recommend reading the previous stories.The life of Sherlock and Irene continues and both find themselves facing a life they had never planned before, but something and someone come to undermine their balance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the mature rating is only for a chapter toward the end of this story

**London - Regent Street - 10 January 2021 - 8.30 p.m.**  
  
Claire squeezes in her quilt, almost hiding her face under the hood to try to protect herself from the icy wind of this evening. Studying until this time was not in her plans, but Rachel did not want to stop until they had finished all the chapters of that damn volume. Perhaps enrolling in the Faculty of Economics was not a good idea. It seemed more interesting as a degree program, but in reality, most of the exams are of a deadly bore. Not to mention the mistake in having chosen the most workaholic among her classmates to face the most boring of exams.

Claire sighs, thinking that if they stopped midway in the early afternoon, she would not find herself walking along Regent Street, to get home on such a cold night. Yet she loves this road, that reaches the Soho district, crossing Piccadilly Circus, so full of important commercial buildings, from Apple to Hamleys, so beautifully lit up at Christmas time.

But it's too cold tonight or maybe she's too tired to enjoy it, too cold to stop in front of one of the beautiful windows as she usually does. No, tonight she walks briskly to the bus stop, hoping not to have to wait too long.

She almost got to the stop, when she hears the sound of a car that seems to run more than it should. She raises her gaze, that she was fixed on the sidewalk slowing down, to see who is the idiot that runs that way. The car passes by quickly and she can only see that there is a woman driving, but it is so fast that there is almost a movement of air in its passage.

With growing horror, Claire stops altogether and cannot help but watch the car completely lose control and finish at full speed against a street lamp. The impact is so strong that the windows of the windshield explode, projecting all around, and the lamp seems to have almost cut the whole bonnet in half.

Claire launches a scream of surprise, and the same do other passers-by, but none of them has time to move or do anything, because a sudden explosion turns the car curled up into a huge burning torch, that illuminates Regent Street more than it is been around the Christmas period.


	2. Chapter 2

**London - Baker Street - 11 January 2021 - 9.00 a.m.**  
  
"Remind me again... why are we here?". The tone of voice with which John Watson is speaking is calm, but with a hint of sarcasm and impatience. He looks at the watch on his wrist again, shaking his head, before returning with his gaze on Sherlock, who is collecting a series of objects from the various drawers. Both wear an elegant ceremonial outfit, that seems ill-suited to the work they normally do at 221B, where they typically receive clients or analyze the cases they are working on.

"I absolutely need some of these tools" Sherlock answers "you should know after so many years that we work together" he adds with an almost surprised tone.  
"Sherlock, we do not have the time to go to a crime scene" John exclaims with disappointment "for God… it's Molly's marriage... even if you're not the witness you cannot miss it... and neither do I",  he adds, raising his eyes to heaven.  
"Here it is... but… why am I not the witness? "Sherlock asks, stopping in the middle of the room with tweezers and a series of transparent sachets in one hand.  
"Did you forget what happened to my wedding?" John answers with another question.  
"Several things happened that day. We saved your friend's life, found out who had tried to kill the soldier, found out you were about to have a daughter" Sherlock starts to list.  
"Yes true. But above all, there was your speech" John interrupts, with an ironic smile.  
"Ah... I see... yes. Maybe then it was a good idea not to choose me as a witness," Sherlock murmurs, returning shortly afterwards to take an interest in the objects he is collecting and which he meticulously inserts into the pockets of his suit.

"Good. We are ready now, we can go. We'll also have time to get to the wedding of Alex and Molly"he adds finally looking at John, who stares at him with an air of impatience and hands on the hips "what's up now?" he asks, narrowly narrowed his eyes.  
"But do you really want to take her with you?"  
"Why should not I?"  
"She only is seven months old, Sherlock"  
"I do not expect her to help me solve a case... not yet at least" he says to his friend as he approaches his chair, where is sitting his daughter Mary, who, with her intense blue eyes and dark hair, does not lose his movement.

When she sees him approach, the serious expression that had until a few moments before disappears and a huge smile illuminates her small face. Sherlock looks at her and sees in her the same look and the same smile of the mother. Mary extends her small arms in an explicit silent request to be taken in his arms and Sherlock raises her by placing a kiss on her forehead.

It took days, after she had finally come out of the hyperbaric cradle, before he had the courage to do it, and perhaps months would have passed, if Irene had not intervened, and without ceremony or chance that he could refuse, one evening she put her between his arms, moving away and leaving him alone in the room equipped for her in their home in Eaton Square. Sherlock still remembers that moment today, the initial tremendous panic, the fear of being unsuitable, not ready, not adequate. Immediately he began to hyperventilate, holding Mary in front of him raised in his hands. And at that moment, when the panic seemed to win, Mary smiled at him. That smile and that intense look was like an imprint. At that moment Sherlock realized that he had to do nothing but love her, respond to that smile and hold her close, protect her.

Sherlock now comes out of the living room holding his daughter in his arms and goes down the stairs to the lobby.

"Come on, you cannot take her to a crime scene," John exclaims following him.  
"There's no reason not to do it... it's not even a murder but just a robbery... she has seen worse" the friend replies, taking his coat from his coat that he manages to wear with skill, by passing the small Mary from an arm to another, who seems to have fun in the movements emitting a series of sounds "mi... ci... mi... ci".  
"Did you take her seriously even on scenes where there were corpses?" John asks, raising his arms in a dejected gesture "but when? I do not remember coming with us first," he says surprised.  
"No, in fact. Greg never allowed me. But Molly could not stop me taking her with me, when I go to her lab or morgue," Sherlock replies, now also taking a baby carrier, with which he usually wanders Mary, who continues to emit her incomprehensible sounds "mi... ci... mi... ci".  
"The morgue... the right place for a child... sure" John tells him resigned "have you been able to understand what those words she is saying?" He asks finally, opening the door of the house and then going out into the street with his friend toward his car.  
"No. I do not think they are true words. Children within the year of age begin with in this way" Sherlock answers, opening the rear door of the car where on the travel stroller he puts Mary, checking that the belts are well fastened.  
"Maybe she likes mice. It looks like she says mice," John says, climbing into the car and turning on the engine.  
"Maybe. But I hope she does not ask us to have a mouse soon. I have already understood that rejecting her something is not a simple thing… who knows who she got from" Sherlock answers with a slight ironic smile, looking at his friend who, after a giggle, presses his foot on the accelerator away from Baker Street.


	3. Chapter 3

**London - British Museum - 11 January 2021 - 10.00 a.m.**  
  
"The treasure of Oxus is a collection of about 180 pieces of gold and silver, dating back to the fifth and sixth centuries before Christ. The objects were made in the context of the Persian Achaemenid Empire and were found between 1877 and 1880 at the Takht-i-Kuwad site, in today's Tajikistan" Sherlock's voice is deep, as he revolves around the intact but empty British Museum, with Mary who seems enchanted by his words, looking at him from her baby carrier "some mercenary merchants, in the area of Rawalpindi, in today's Pakistan, sold part of the treasure to Sir Alexander Cunningham, the British general and archaeologist who was the first director of the Archaeological investigations in India, and another part to the British collector Augustus Wollaston Franks. Franks later bought the rest of the collection from Cunningham, leaving the entire treasure in 1897 as a legacy at the British Museum" He stops after doing the round of the case twice and only now looks up at John and Greg.

"Thanks Mr. Wikipedia" Greg tells him impatiently, because the story of the treasure is of little interest for him, instead understanding how the theft happened is his priority.  
"I’m not my brother… but knowing the story of the treasure is important to understand what prompted a thief to enter this apparent fortress," Sherlock says, raising his eyes to the sky as if he were explaining something obvious.  
"Then? Did you notice anything then? "Greg asks, going to the point.  
"Yes. The gold bracelet of the collection has disappeared" Sherlock answers, looking around and stopping his gaze on the doors, the windows, the corners of the room where the various surveillance cameras are fixed.

"Sherlock please. We have no time to waste. Do not joke, that is not even something that is good for you, I still remember that the wedding starts at 11.30 and we must all be present... Molly would never forgive us" John says, but Sherlock has not even listened because, without saying anything, he moved away from the case, going towards the entrance door of the room.  
"Hey. But where are you going now?" Greg asks starting to run after him "heck… even the paternity does not change him" he then says to John by his side.

Sherlock does not seem to have heard them and with his long and determined step he leaves the room and enters the corridors. Constantly check all the points where the cameras are installed and following a clear mental path in the various corridors, he gets to a closed door with the prohibition of entry printed at the top and a keyboard with a badge to open it.  
"Then. Can we know what you're looking for?" Greg asks when he has reached him.  
"The control room… it seems obvious to me," Sherlock answers and without waiting for answers or comments he knocks insistently on the door with one hand, making turn towards them some visitors passing through that corridor.

"What are you doing? We must first ask for a permit or at least talk to the management to enter here" Greg tells him, whose tone now begins to be impatient.

"We have no time. You told me. You are the inspector in charge of the investigation... permission is not needed" Sherlock replies without hesitation, resuming a knock on the door.  
"Yes, but I would like to prevent the museum director from complaining to my boss. You know he cannot bear you to get involved so often in cases" Greg adds, looking at John, who raises his hands like a sign of surrender.  
"When we find the bracelet and get the thief, he will have nothing to complain about," Sherlock tells him, and with a hand gesture he closes the question as unimportant.

At that moment the door opens and a massive and irritated looking man looks at them. He wears a dark suit and a badge that identifies him as a personal security officer. Sherlock, after the first moment spent observing all the details that can give him information about him, he enters passing by the man.  
"Good morning. I'm Detective Sherlock Holmes and with me there's Inspector Greg Lestrade and my assistant Dr. Watson. I have to view the images recorded during the theft" he says approaching the screens, a dozen, which frame the various halls and corridors of this part of the museum.

The security man is almost open-mouthed, surprised not only by Sherlock but also by the fact that he has a child, which makes everything even more strange and unusual.  
"Yes. This is my card, Mr. Richards. I'm the inspector in charge and Sherlock Holmes with John Watson work with me," Greg says after reading the man's name on his badge.  
"I understand inspector. But I must warn my superiors. Nobody had told me anything about your visit," the man says, and he opens the door ajar as John enters.  
"It's okay but first let me see the video of the theft," Sherlock says impatiently.

The security man sighs clearly uncertain about how to move. Then, after making a decision, he approaches a computer, goes to the Oxus treasure room folder, chooses the day of the theft, and starts the registration file by sliding it quickly until the museum closes.  
"Here. Take a seat as well. I have looked at it a thousand times and I have not yet understood how it was possible. A second the bracelet is there in its place, the second after the bracelet is gone" and after talking he leaves Sherlock Greg and John watching the videos, then moves away a few steps, approaches the phone hanging on a wall and makes a number on the keyboard.  
"I wanted to warn that Inspector Lestrade with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are here to watch the video of the theft" they hear him say on the phone "yes... well... Yes sir" he adds finally, before putting the phone.

Sherlock does not seem to have noticed the call a lot. His mind is focused on the video that flows where the last visitors of the museum are leaving the room and the lights that fade away intermittently are giving the closing signal of the museum. When the room is empty, after a few minutes begin to pass the attendants who check all the corners and floors to verify that there are no lost or other items. Eventually the lights dimmed, modulating themselves on the night vision and the display cases shine in the darkness of the room. And then, at a certain point, a shimmer that suddenly disappears gives the signal of the theft. Sherlock stops the video and goes back, it makes it go on and after the moment of the disappearance of the bracelet again comes back and it concerns him in slow motion. The bracelet seems to disappear in the space of a second.  
"The video could be faked," murmured Greg behind Sherlock.  
"Impossible" the security man intervenes fervently "The videos are recorded directly on that server and only we in security have access to those videos. Each department of the museum has its own video surveillance and is autonomous. No one apart from me and my superiors can have access to that recording" he ends almost vehemently approaching Sherlock and the others.  
"Nothing is impossible. But surely it is not possible that the bracelet is divided into nothingness from the case by magic. There must be a logical explanation and all possible hypotheses must be evaluated," Sherlock tells him, standing up from the chair in front of the computer where he sat.

"Quite right. But in this case Richards is right. I have personally checked the registration file to the best experts of our agency and it has been perfectly intact and not fake as well as all those of the cameras in the various corridors and rooms until the museum exit" a female voice from the door of the open room intervenes in discussion.

Sherlock turns and looks at the newly arrived woman. At least one meter and seventy tall, with a dry, long-legged body, she wears a dark trousers suit, with beautiful and decisive features, dark and deep eyes, little make-up and dark long hair softly closed by an elastic band that leaves some locks on the sides of the face. Sherlock watches her registering all the details that he needs to understand and label the woman in front of him.  
"I suppose the MI6 computer division is quite efficient in this," Sherlock tells her, looking at her.  
"I see that your fame is not just an exaggeration Mr. Holmes" the woman answers entering the room "I would be curious to know how you know I'm an agent of MI6, but none of us want to get lost in chat I  guess" she adds stopping to a few steps from Sherlock and arching an eyebrow she glances at Mary for a moment, who now looks at her.  
"You are right. Getting the videos analyzed immediately was a smart move, but I would rather be curious to find out why a good MI6 official is dealing with the case," Sherlock tells her, attracting the woman's attention back to him.  
"And of course you also know that I'm not a simple agent. I am impressed... really" the woman tells him with a slight smile "we have a good chance of believing that the theft can be connected to a terrorist network. So here is my presence explained. Nice to meet you Mr. Holmes, I'm Lydia Meyers," the woman finally adds, reaching for Sherlock, who looks at her for a few more seconds as if to catalog other information before reaching out and shaking the woman's hand.

"I had not been informed of anything. Does it possible that the police should always be the last to know things?" Greg intervenes, saluting the woman with a tight grip.  
"I'm sorry, Inspector. Actually, I had left to inform your superior. I'm afraid communication has not come up to you, apparently" Lydia responds, turning to John and greeting him with a handshake.

At that moment the door of the room opens again and a man makes his entrance presenting himself as the head of internal security. Lydia turns to the man who has just entered to report to him the result, unfortunately negative, on the videos of the theft.

Sherlock listens absent-mindedly to their dialogues, still looking around the room while Mary in her baby carrier now makes her presence felt, continuing with her verses.  
"I see. As I told you our work was flawless. I was sure the videos could not be counterfeited. But now we have to leave Richards to his job, we distracted him too much" the head of security says to Lydia "Richards I go back to the control room. The gentlemen are leaving now. For anything you know how to contact me" he adds before leaving the room.  
"Yes, of course," Richards answers immediately.  
"Good. We have finished here and a wedding awaits us," Sherlock says, heading for the door.  
"I guess we'll meet again Mr. Holmes" the woman tells him before Sherlock comes out completely.  
"If to solve this case I will need the information in your possession, it is probable Miss Meyers" Sherlock replies, turning a moment to the woman with whom he meets his eyes for a moment.

Then, without adding anything else, he turns and proceeds along the corridors towards the museum exit followed closely by Greg and John.

"How is it that you can impress a beautiful woman, is something I do not explain," John tells him when they left the museum headed to their car and after saying goodbye to Greg, who would join them on his own wedding.  
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asks, raising an eyebrow.  
"Oh come on. That woman. Lydia Meyers. Do not tell me you did not notice," John tells him, chuckling.  
"You watch too many movies. I have to have a chat with Eleonor" Sherlock replies, returning to fix Mary in the car stroller.  
"I say she likes you. But anyway, I will not deal with the subject anymore, and above all I will avoid doing it in front of Irene... seeing her jealous is a thought that makes me anxious "John tells him chuckling.  
"You are always exaggerated. Irene is not a woman from whom you will ever see stupid scenes of jealousy. So, calm down," Sherlock replied, closing the door after getting into the car too.

"If you say so... come on now, let's go to this wedding. Because maybe I'll never see Irene make scenes of jealousy, but if we arrive late I would not cross her angry look or that of Molly" he adds finally before turning on the car and move away from the museum.


	4. Chapter 4

**London - Eaton Square - 11 January 2021 - 8.30 p.m.**  
  
The car stops in front of the 44 Eaton Square and the first to go is Miki, who takes the bag from the luggage with everything necessary for Mary. Irene gets out of the car and, from the back seat, she frees from the stroller's belts the smiling little girl, who reaches her little arms out to get up. Despite being born more than two months in advance and the period spent in incubation in the hyperbaric cradle, Mary is growing without problems. Minute for her seven months of life, but lively and with a character that is now perceived as strong and determined. She rarely cries, but making her eat something she does not want or making her fall asleep, is really a titanic undertaking, even for a woman like Irene. Some time she has had to bring out the severe and authoritative tones of dominatrix to convince her to eat something that is not her mother's milk and has not always been successful. What a little irritating to her, especially when they found out that the only way to get her into those moments is the voice of Sherlock explaining and telling a case in detail. Sherlock's satisfied and victorious expression in those moments almost makes her want to slap him, or kiss him, or maybe both.

Irene raises little Mary in her arms and climbs the stairs followed by Miki with her purse while Sherlock in front of them opens the front door, throws it open to let them in and then closed behind them disables the alarm.

Standing in front of the mirror with the baby in her arms, Irene watches as Miki climbs upstairs.  
"I do not know what's weird anymore," she says to Sherlock, who is approaching her shoulders, looking at her from the reflection in the mirror "I do not know if it seems more anomalous to have witnessed my brother in a classic marriage with Molly, rather than looking in the mirror with our daughter in my arms... it's all like that... normal" she whispers with a sigh.

"There is nothing normal in us and it will never be there... fortunately," he says hugging her from behind as he puts a kiss on her neck.

Irene sighs squinting as she savored the feeling that that simple kiss causes her.  
"I'm not so sure lately," she says with a smile, leaning back against him.

"Tomorrow I'll take Mary with me to Molly's lab to do some analysis and then jump over to the morgue. But if I remember correctly, you have an appointment with that new girl who seems to promise well as the next dominatrix... does this seem normal to you?" Sherlock tells her by placing another kiss on her face near her ear "if it were not for Mycroft, they would never allowed us to adopt Miki... believe me… everything we are but the normal two of us" he adds finally smiling and looking at her from the mirror.

"Actually, if I see it from this point of view I can only give you reason," she says, responding to the smile.  
"I'm always right," Sherlock replies, and before Irene can say anything, he moves away from her and takes Mary from her arms. "I'll put her to sleep tonight... you walk into the bedroom," he says before going off and upstairs.

Irene remains for a few more seconds, returns to look in front of the mirror looking in the reflection to recognize the Irene Adler that a bit has been missing in recent times. Then with a long sigh and a vaguely mischievous smile, he turns off the lights and climbs the stairs, leaving those thoughts prisoners of that mirror.


	5. Chapter 5

**London - St. Bart's Hospital - 12 January 2021 - 11.00 a.m.**  
  
"Do not do it, this thing is getting boring" the voice of Sherlock goes through Molly Hooper's laboratory and for a moment he stops the hand of little Mary who, sitting on a high chair, is about to launch once again a toy among those scattered on the table in front of her.

Sherlock just raises an eyebrow from the other side of the table, where at the microscope he is analyzing some samples found in the hall of the museum where the mysterious theft took place.  
"Mary Adler Holmes, if you throw that toy back on the ground for no more than logical reason, you'll have to go pick it up yourself," he says to the baby, who looks at him with those blue eyes so similar to her mother's. Sherlock looks up from the microscope and stares at his daughter's eyes for a long time. A few minutes pass that both seem enchanted and motionless, then Mary's little hand moves and the toy flies around the room landing on the floor near the entrance door of the laboratory. Sherlock rolls his eyes and returns to look in the microscope the sample he was analyzing, while Mary looks for a moment the toy finished on the ground and then returns with attention to the other games in front of her.

At that moment the door of the laboratory opens and Lydia Meyers appears on the threshold, stopping to look first at Sherlock, who does not look up from her microscope, then the baby sitting on the high chair and finally the toy on the ground in front of her feet.

"Do not pick it up and tell me right away what you want, because I do not have time to waste with your terrorist tracks" Sherlock tells her, continuing to keep his eyes fixed in the microscope.  
"Good morning to you Mr. Holmes... always amiable I see. It must be a family characteristic because even your brother isn’t the best of friendliness" Lydia tells him as she enters the room and closes the door behind her.

"Friendliness for most of the time is just hypocrisy and is also useless. My brother, however, knows how to use the gift of diplomacy... but given his role in government I would say that it is necessary" Sherlock replies, raising only now the look from the microscope to watch the woman who has approached a few steps.

"So that's why you are a detective... not to be obliged to be friendly and diplomatic. A way like any other not to be subjected to any discipline... interesting... curious and interesting" the woman tells him with a slight smile.

"I thought you was a secret service official and not a psychologist... if you are here to bore me you can even go away," Sherlock tells her, pushing away the feeling of irritation he's feeling. He understood perfectly what she wanted to imply this woman, the veiled allusion to his relationship with Irene, and being analyzed is something that he does not like, especially because it is really rare to find someone who is able to do it.

"I see. However, I remind you that this investigation now belongs to our department. I do not want to exclude you from the case, it would be stupid not to use your skills, but I ask you to share with us all the possible hypotheses and all the evidence you collect" Lydia replies not at all intimidated by him.

"Thank you. But even if you wanted to exclude me you would not be able to. Sometimes it is convenient to have an influential brother," Sherlock tells her, staring at her for a few moments "However, in all the samples I took, I found nothing unusual. Footprints, dust, every trace detected around the case belongs only to the museum staff, the only authorized to approach inside the cord around the case and the only ones that in the video we saw approach, for reasons of control and work, to the bracelet disappeared" he adds finally starting to place the samples in the envelopes from where he had taken them.

"Does that tell you something then?" Lydia asks, whose interest seems to be totally focused now on the case.  
"It tells me that as always the solutions are simple and under our eyes and just waiting to be discovered," Sherlock answers without looking up from the samples that ends up settling.  
"So no hypothesis?"  
"At the moment none that can be proven"  
"Okay, let's proceed with our track on the terrorist network then. If you have any news, please inform me immediately. This is my number," Lydia finally tells him, passing him his business card.

Sherlock takes it from her hand and, without answering, slips it into the pocket of his jacket, then approaches the filing cabinet where he puts the sachets with the samples in a drawer without taking any further interest in the presence of the woman in the room.

Lydia looks at him for a moment, then nods, smiling slightly and saying nothing, opens the door and leaves the laboratory.

Sherlock finishes settling the samples and then closes the drawer and turns to the door now closed. He takes the business card from his pocket, observing it for a few moments, he copies the number on his phone book, then throws the ticket into the trash can. On a shelf next to the file cabinet, he notes an autopsy file that Molly has made. He opens it and checks it by reconnecting the woman's autopsy to the chronicle of an accident that happened a couple of days earlier. Nothing apparently abnormal just a damn accident. His attention, however, is soon attracted by Mary who makes another toy fly in the room.

Sherlock closes the folder and sighing bends to pick up the toys bringing them back in front of the child who is now smiling and making him smile too. A thought suddenly forms in his mind and he tells to himself if Mary does not do it on purpose, to see how many times he can get what she wants and that happy smile on his daughter's face confirms the reality of his hypothesis.

"If anyone has doubts about who you are daughter... this is worth more than any analysis of DNA" he says shaking his head resigned before taking Mary from the chair "let's go for a ride at the morgue, maybe there is something interesting to see" he says smiling to the child that happy repeats her incomprehensible words.


	6. Chapter 6

**London - St. Bart's Hospital - 18 January 2021 - 3.00 pm**  
  
Today's funeral executives seem to be insurers, sellers with their leaflets of coffins and loculi, hypocritically contrite as if they personally knew the dead whose burial is to be grabbed.

Dean Logan listens to them without understanding anything of what they are telling him. What do you want to care at this moment if the coffin is padded, dark or light wood, with the handles in gold or silver?

Dean Logan thinks only that he wants to get out of this place as soon as possible, sign the cards they need and run away as far as possible, lock himself up somewhere and pretend nothing has ever happened.

Maybe he wants to escape on one of those fighter aircraft of which he handles the software in the IT company where he works.

Here, escape far away and perhaps disappear in the Bermuda triangle, disappear from this absurd life that one day seems to realize all your dreams and the next day makes you sink into the abyss of a boundless and terrifying hell.

Dean Logan listens to the last words of the burial chief then, without even knowing which coffin or type of burial he has chosen for Mrs. Logan, he signs the papers that are submitted to him and as an automaton he leaves the mortuary and the hospital.

 

**London - Baker Street - January 18, 2021 - 5.00 p.m.**  
  
"Can you know how and when it happened?" Sherlock's voice is slightly altered, while from his chair he fixes his gaze on John sitting on the opposite side.  
"Now Sherlock... I have to explain how it seems to me rather paradoxical" the friend replies with a relaxed tone "regarding the when... just count nine months before their birth and almost seven before the birth of Mary" he adds pointing to Rosie, Mary and William, the son of John and Eleonor born just two months earlier, who literally invaded the carpet between the two armchairs of toys of all kinds.

"That was not what I meant," Sherlock replies with a snort "I would like to understand when it is that we decided that 221B turned into a nursery. I cannot concentrate and enter my mental palace, "he adds sighing.  
"We did not decide it, but our respective women do it. We like independent and strong independent women... you had to choose a different woman if you wanted something different... a good housewife and so when you come home you can find ready your dinner and your daughter ready to go to sleep" John says with an ironic smile.

"Please... a worst nightmare I could not imagine it" Sherlock replies, raising his eyes to the sky "rather I would have had to get my parents back from the holidays now that I'm in the middle of a case".  
"Stop saying idiocies. Do we rather make progress in the case of theft? It seems to me that we are at a standstill " John asks, trying to get him to focus on the case again.  
"Not for now. I need some information that I still miss," Sherlock replies interrupting when he hears someone knocking on the lower floor entrance door. He hears Mrs. Hudson going to open and a woman's voice. Then some steps that go up the stairs, light but sure. He waits to see the woman enter the living room, then gets up by moving a few steps towards the center of the room.

"Good evening Miss Meyers. If you came looking for information you can even leave, because I do not have any. If, on the other hand, you are here to give me useful news for the investigation, our collaboration will finally make sense," Sherlock tells her, looking at her with his hands crossed behind his back.  
"Let's make progress, I see... now we'll have a good evening, Mr. Holmes" Lydia answers as she enters the room and after saying goodbye to John and watching the children on the carpet for a few moments, she returns to watch Sherlock.

"The sarcasm will not make your presence less useless if you have no news to give me" Sherlock tells her without stopping to look at her.  
"The sympathy is really your skill Mr. Holmes... have they ever told you?" Lydia responds with an ironic smile not at all impressed by the attitude of Sherlock.  
"Would I need anything at this time to be nice?" Sherlock asks, raising an eyebrow.  
"Specifically, I would say no... just to be less obnoxious," Lydia replies giggling.  
"Then I will continue not to be so... you do not seem to be particularly impressed"  
"Not at all," Lydia answers  
"Good. It's a rare quality to find in an MI6 official... it denotes intelligence... another rare quality," Sherlock tells her, and at that moment John looks at him in a puzzled and surprised manner.  
"Is Mr. Holmes complimenting me?"  
"I never compliment as I never offend. It's just an observation," Sherlock says.

"Yes. It's really true that" Irene's voice, just entered the living room, draws the attention of all three. Standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her breasts, her blue eyes now dark and deep as the ocean, Irene stares at Sherlock.

"You did soon," Sherlock tells her, turning his eyes away after a few moments. "I'll introduce you to Lydia Meyers, a MI6 official, we're collaborating on the case," he adds, returning to sit in his chair.  
"Of course... collaborating..." Irene's voice is calm but cold and hard. She puts her gaze on the woman in front of her and observes her carefully, examines her.

Lydia holds her gaze firmly, she is not a woman who can easily be impressed, but inside she admits that this woman has something truly disturbing, as they had told her. Suddenly the silence seems to have fallen on 221B and even the children seem impressed by the atmosphere full of tension.

"Then? I'm still waiting for the important news that you have to give me, Miss Meyers." Sherlock's voice breaks that strange silence and Lydia finally averted her eyes from Irene, who turns around as she approaches the carpet where she bends down to pick Mary up.

"Yes. Sure. I wanted to inform you that the trail on the terrorist network has brought us an important track. We have identified an antique dealer, who also acts as a hidden mediator for collectors of stolen objects. If our information is accurate in the next few days the exchange should take place. If you are interested in being there, I will let you know as soon as we have certain information about the place and time of the exchange" Lydia tells him professionally.  
"Of course I want to be present if and when this exchange will take place... just to make sure it is the authentic bracelet," Sherlock replies.  
"Good. We will keep you updated then. If you have other news Mr. Holmes... please inform me. You know my number" Lydia tells him, feeling Irene's eyes on her again and the air now seems so heavy to be almost unbreathable.

Without waiting for a response from Sherlock, who does not seem to want to add anything else, Lydia greets everyone and with a firm step leaves the living room, going down the stairs until she goes out into the street again. Once out of 221B she lets go a long breath. She knew that these two were hard bones, but dealing with them is even worse than expected. She then climbs into the waiting car that is waiting for her and quickly moves away from Baker Street.

"I got rid of it first because I did not want Mary to distract you from your work... but I see that you do not miss the distractions" Irene's voice is sharp as she picks up Mary's things in one bag with one hand and with the other supports the baby against her side.  
"I do not know what you're talking about," Sherlock replies with a sigh as he gets up in an attempt to help her.  
"Do not offend my intelligence, Sherlock" Irene tells him, closing the bag with a snap and refusing his help. "Now we go home. You do what you want" she then adds and after only a brief wave of greeting to John, with a quick step she comes out of the living room to leave the 221B altogether.

Sherlock remains to look at the door for a few moments with an absorbed and apparently confused look.  
"But for the hell… what's got you?" John's altered voice draws his attention.  
"I repeat it to you too... I do not know what you're talking about, John," he replies, returning to sit in his chair.  
"Are you really so stupid that you did not realize that you were flirting with that woman?" John asks in a louder voice and an almost angry tone.  
"This is nonsense. I do not flirt with anyone. I do not even know how to do it, it's not my skill" Sherlock replies, crossing his legs while his hands slowly drum on the armrests.  
"You may not flirt like all the other human beings, but I get a blow that's exactly your way of flirting, Sherlock" John exclaims, clapping a hand on the arm so strong that his son William almost makes a jolt "and I honestly do not know if to think that the fact that you did not realize it is better or worse" he then adds in a calmer tone so as not to scare the children.

Sherlock looks at him for a few moments without speaking. Thoughts are overlapping in the mind and needs to be put in order. He puts his hands under his chin and closes his eyes.  
"Now I need to focus on, John. See you tomorrow" are the only words he says before closing in his mental palace.

John looks at him and shakes his head with a clear worried expression on his face. After a few minutes he picks up all his children's belongings in a backpack, picks up William and holds Rosie by her hand, and without saying anything he leaves the 221B too.


	7. Chapter 7

**London - St. Bart's Hospital - 20 January 2021 - 12.30 a.m.**

The honeymoon was not long, both Alex and Molly are in the verification phase of Alex's research and going away for too long did not like to either of them. After all, they both like their work so much that neither of them weighs.

But this morning Molly is not applied to Alex's research. This morning this medical record of this poor woman has become her only job. She had made the autopsy, for what little it was needed, because the body was completely charred. And she had found nothing that did not coincide with the dynamics of a car accident. But those analysis on the blood, found on some fragments of glass not burned, do not convince her.

It is really strange that for a trivial road accident the analysis on the DNA, to confirm the identity of the charred woman, have been so fast. This is something that never happens, unless there is an important and urgent case and a high-level intervention to speed up the analysis process. When the day before she tried to talk to the technician assigned to those analyzes, everything seemed even stranger to her. He has always been a nice and kind boy, but his hard and almost angry reaction has really surprised her. There's something wrong. Not that she is capable of particular insight, but she knows how to do her work well and in her silent shyness she observes people. Maybe she should talk to Sherlock about it. Maybe he can give her a logical explanation that she does not see now and so ends this strange obsession that has taken her for that poor woman. We do not even know why she lost control of the car. The charred body did not allow drugs or alcohol to be detected, nor did the car appear to be damaged, but it is difficult to say with certainty, given the conditions of the vehicle. Perhaps she had a heart attack or a stroke, this is the most likely hypothesis.

Tired of all these confusing thoughts, Molly closes the folder and looks at the time. For lunch she has an appointment with Alex at the restaurant where they usually always go to eat during the break. A few blocks away and today fortunately it's a beautiful sunny day. A warm and wintery but pleasant sun.

She takes her jacket and goes out of the laboratory along the corridors to the elevators. Once in the elevator she picks up the phone to call Sherlock, but he does not take it there. Maybe she calls him afterwards before returning.

Once outside the elevator, she walks the atrium smiling as far as the hospital entrance. It's a beautiful day. She tightens in her coat and her eye falls on her wedding ring. Every time she sees it she is surprised. She is surprised to be married, she is surprised to be in love with a man so beautiful, intelligent, funny and affectionate, so different from Sherlock. Years before she would have never thought it was possible. Yet today it is so, it still seems to all a strange dream but it is so. The wedding and the hug with Irene come to mind. A woman so different from her but with time she learned to understand and appreciate her. After all, if it was not for her, she would never have met her brother Alex.

Molly stops at the traffic light lost in these thoughts. In front of her on the opposite sidewalk Alex is waving his hand while waiting in front of the restaurant. You really are a lucky woman, thinks Molly waiting for the light to turn green. As soon as the pedestrian signal changes color Molly crosses. The secondary road where the restaurant is located is not very busy but you she always is in the habit of respecting the rules. But not everyone is like her. Suddenly a car crosses the intersection at full speed and Molly does not even have time to notice. The last thing she sees is Alex's terrified look.

 

At seven in the evening the darkness in this cold January has already arrived for hours. It is the darkness that everyone feels in the heart that, however, oppresses each of them. Molly is lying there in a bed with a thousand cannulas that enter her body devastated by the blow. Still alive, if you can say so, because doctors do not seem to leave much hope for now. Damage extended to various organs, fractured ribs, but above all the blow to the head. Probable irreversible coma. This is the sentence because it is a death sentence.

Sherlock observes her friend from behind the glass that faces her room and the weight he feels at the heart is so oppressive that it feels like he does not breathe. Alex is sitting beside the bed with an absent look, devastated by the pain and the fear of losing the person he loves. He knows what it feels like, knows what it feels like when you're afraid of losing the person you love. And you can lose her in various ways. Death has innumerable forms.

Irene is standing by his side, not a word since she arrived. As she is looking at her brother in despair and in the reflection of the glass Sherlock meets her gaze. It's a tough, angry, ferocious, distant look. Without saying anything, Irene moves away from his side and enters the room, going near her brother who, when he sees her, clings to her almost without having the strength to cry, even though he would like to do it with his whole being.

"How the hell could Sherlock it happen?" John's voice distracts him from the vision that is torturing him.

"I do not know John, but I have every intention of finding out," Sherlock tells him before he starts walking away.

"What do you mean?" It was a damn incident, Sherlock... but where are you going now?" John asks him back.

"At Molly's lab, I want to check something," Sherlock replies without stopping, "you stay here please... they might need something," he gestures to the room with a wave of his hand.

"They might need you, you know... she might need you now, Sherlock" John tells him, still following him for a few steps.

"I can't John, I have to do other things now," Sherlock answers, and without looking back, he goes along the St. Bart's corridors to Molly's lab. He opens it and enters it with caution, almost as if he were entering a sanctuary now. He closes the door behind him and looks around looking for something, a detail. On a shelf he sees the folder Molly had peeled through the morning. He approaches and opens the folder of that woman who died in the car accident. Quickly read all the notes and news that were added after he saw it for the first time, then close it with a click. He sighed for a long time, standing still and looking at the closed folder, then suddenly, as if he could not control all his emotions anymore, he took the briefcase and angrily threw it toward a wall, then flicking the table with so much force, he drops some tools on the floor. He therefore remains still for a few moments until he feels normal breathing. Then he quickly reopens the door and leaves the laboratory and the hospital.


	8. Chapter 8

**New York - Riverside Drive - 20 January 2021 - 2.30 p.m.**

New York full of snow is the most beautiful and fascinating thing you can see. Or at least that's how many tourists think and even some New Yorkers, who are not forced to shovel snow in front of the house to allow cars to be able to comfortably leave the boulevard.

And that is what Proctor, a big man almost two meters tall, hardened and threatening, has been thinking for hours, while he is intent on clearing the driveway that leads to the entrance and the garage of his employer's residence. Not that Proctor ever complains, it is already rare that he speaks, to tell the truth. But certainly shoveling snow is not a job that particularly he loves. Not to mention the fact that it's probably a completely useless job, because he's been locked up in that house for days and does not seem to have any intention of going anywhere.

But in all these years he has learned to know him and knows that at any moment he could wake up from that apparent state of catalepsy in which he fell and then everything must be ready and available, because Aloysius Xingu Leng Pendergast always asks kindly, but he asks only once. And Proctor has been serving him for years, he has followed and helped him in a thousand businesses, often risking his life, but he never pulls back and not simply because he is his employer. Proctor owes him so much, more than life. After all it's always like this. Around this strange man there are a number of people who owe him something and who would follow him everywhere. Because he is like that, he is the strangest person in the world, the loneliest of men, but when he decides to help someone, he does not hold back to anything. As with that strange girl who had helped him during a case and that he then decided to finance, to allow her to leave a world of misery and instead exploit her skills of intelligence and intuition, making her study law.

Aloysius Xingu Leng Pendergast, FBI special agent is like that, that's why no one pulls back when suddenly he throws himself on an absurd and dangerous case, asking you to help him.

Proctor enters the house after finally having finished cleaning the avenue and faces the reading room. Pendergast is still where he left him, sitting in front of the fireplace with a book open on his legs and a glass of absinthe in one hand, elegantly dressed in his usual dark tailored suit, that contrasts with white skin and almost albino blonde hair.

"Do you need anything, Sir?"

"No Proctor, I have everything I need"

"For tonight I was thinking of preparing a fillet if he likes it"

"It would be perfect Proctor, I just wanted to open the 2010 Chateau Petrus which would marry perfectly"

"Very well Sir" are the last words of Proctor who departs from the hall. The fact that he wants to open such a fine bottle of wine is a good sign.

Pendergast listens to Proctor's steps away, then closes his eyes resting his head back on the chair. He has no desire to eat or drink but he also knows that Proctor is worried if his state of catalepsy is prolonged too much. And when he worries, he calls Vincent. And when Vincent worries often he also involves his wife Captain Laura. And he has no desire now to reassure all these people about his state of mind. He knows well in the past years of having brought his body to exhaustion, to have touched the voluntary death when the dramas that involved him closely threatened to overwhelm him completely and drive him crazy. But it will not happen again now. It can overcome everything without having to lead to destruction.

The sound of the phone distracts him from these thoughts and he opens his eyes looking at the display. An unknown number and the prefix is that of London. He arches an eyebrow and his gray, cold eyes like ice show a flicker of interest.

"Mr. Holmes what a surprise" he answers the phone to whom he would find on the other side.

"I did not know you kept my phone number," Sherlock answers.

"I did not, I have your number stored in my mental palace and, anyway, I have very few people who would call me from London on this phone"

"Well, I do not get lost in pleasantries, if you answered me, it means you are alive and fine, so I'm going to ask you right away if I can ask you for a hand, I need your help in an important case."

"I'm listening," Pendergast replies, smiling at the direct way of this man, who every time surprises him but amuses him.

The call lasted for a few minutes and at the end Pendergast closed the communication. He places the absinthe glass and the book on a small table. He gets up and approaches a shelf in the large bookshelf, opening up a secret compartment. A door opens and shows a secret passage with stairs. Pendergast passes it down the stairs and reflects that the fillet and the wine for the evening are perhaps not a bad idea at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**London - St. Bart's hospital - 21 January 2021 - 11.00 a.m.**

"She's a friend of mine Mycroft ... a dear friend of mine you know".

"I know it and it's not the first nor will it be the last time I repeat that all these... affections, of which you surround yourself, are only a disadvantage. However, I don't see my presence there what would change" the voice of Mycroft to phone makes Sherlock sigh. He is trying to stay calm, sitting on a chair in the hallway near Molly's room, holding Mary on his legs while he is talking to his brother.

"It would change that you could keep your nephew with you for a few hours and allow me to work on the case and Irene to be with her brother"

"But with all the friends you have, you think it's the best solution to let me take care of her?"

"She's... your... nephew" Sherlock tells him, tight-lipped trying not to show too much his tension "I want you to take care of her... but with you there will also be Miki do not worry... in the case you panic he will know how to help you. Now let's not waste time and send a car to pick them up," he adds finally sighing.

"It's fine... as you want... I'll send Anthea right away in a car, it'll be there in half an hour," Mycroft replies in a resigned tone.

"Well, we agree on everything then"

"We agree... And little brother... try not to get in trouble, I'll have my hands busy keeping an eye on your daughter... see not to force me to intervene in your possible mess".

"Do not worry, we'll talk later," and this time Sherlock does not even wait for Mycroft's answer and closes the phone.

He looks up at Molly's room and sees Miki come out. He looks at his stiff shoulders and pained expression. The boy has faced many in his life and he does not want to see him all day out of Molly's room to torment himself. He knows how fond he is, how much he has bonded with Alex. That's why he wants to get him away now.

"Miki, take your sister and all her belongings. In a few time Anthea will arrive to pick you up and takes you to Mycroft," he tells him, approaching and passing Mary to him.

"Do we go to the uncle, but why?" the little boy asks, a little surprised.

"John and I are busy and Irene has to stay with Alex, but I do not trust Mary to be alone with Mycroft, your uncle would be able to put her to sleep in a cell if they call him for a meeting" Sherlock tells him, as he picked up the stroller that was folded in a corner and, after opening it, rearranged Mary and removed her from Miki's arms.

"In fact, the uncle would also be able" Miki replies and almost smiles.

"If I will have any news, I'll call you immediately," Sherlock tells him, giving him the bag with all Mary's stuff. He then watches him walk away and when he sees him disappearing into the elevator he moves closer to the glass of Molly's room. Irene and Alex are still inside, both sitting beside the bed, one next to the other.

"Mr. Holmes? I would not bother you... but the time has come" Lydia's voice makes him turn his back on the room. The woman in front of him is looking at him and despite her professional appearance, her expression appears to be softened.

"Does the exchange will happen?"

"I know it's a bad time, but you told me you was interested in being there," Lydia tells him as she approaches a few steps.

"It's like that, when and where?" Sherlock asks in a deep, apparently detached tone of voice.

"Tonight at ten, under the bridge of Southwark, they are going to make the exchange with two boats, but Mr. Holmes... if you prefers to stay near your friend I understand... you can always see after the stolen goods recovered" Lydia tells him and leans a hand on his arm on the last words.

Sherlock does not react but looks at her for a long time. "It's not necessary, my presence here would not change anything, see you tonight," he answers without moving.

"Well, I'll let you have the details by text message then" Lydia finally tells him and only now leaves his arm "see you tonight" she then adds before turning and walking away.

Sherlock follows her with his eyes until he sees her turn the corner of the corridor. Then he turns back to the glass of Molly's room and meets Irene's gaze. They remain for a few minutes to look at each other, then without even a sign Sherlock moves away towards the exit.

Irene remains for a few moments to look at that glass and that now empty space beyond it. She sighs and closes her eyes as if to give herself strength, then she reopens them and her expression is now hard, fierce, implacable. She turns to a small mirror resting above a simple bedside table and looks at herself. And after a long time she sees The Woman in that mirror. Now she knows what she must do and she is ready.


	10. Chapter 10

**London - Southwark Bridge - 21 January 2021 - 7.15 p.m.**

Lydia Meyers knows how to do her job well. Not surprisingly, it is one of the few women under 35 year old to have a position of power within the MI6. She struggled, kicked, fought hard but this position she deserves it without any doubt. But her ambition goes far beyond, she does not want to stop at this level, she wants a lot more and this is one of those opportunities that can not be lost in life.

The appointment is set for ten, but she is already here, to check that everything is going well, to check that all the men around the bridge are well hidden and ready to intervene.

Everything must be perfect, like the choreography of a ballet, each of them must do their part to achieve the success of the operation. Not a detail can be left out and she will make it so.

Satisfied with the reconnaissance lap, now Lydia proceeds to the side streets, checking that there are no obstacles of any kind. A sudden noise from the back of a pub between two lanes attracts her attention. Slowly she approaches the alley with one hand instinctively on the butt of the gun, that leads to the side of her belt. The alley is empty and desert. Probably just a cat that rummaged among the waste.

She is about to turn around to leave when she hears a presence at her side emerging from a dark corner of the alley.

"What are you doing..." Lydia's words of surprise are lost in a whisper as she suddenly feels her legs fail and the sight darken completely to the point of falling into a deep black hole.


	11. Chapter 11

**At an unspecified point outside London - 21 January 2021 - 9.00 p.m.**

The cold water that floods her face suddenly awakens her, making her gasp as if she were drowning. Lydia emits a couple of deep breaths shaking her head to regain consciousness. The last thing she remembers was that she was checking an alley and then the darkness. But before dark her face.

She opens her eyes wide, looking around. She is standing with her back to a wall but can not move. Both hands and feet are tied with strong chains to the wall and prevent any movement. She looks around feeling her heartbeat speed up. It's a cellar or something like that, completely empty except for a table with a bag in the middle. She does not hear any external noise except that of nocturnal animals. It is evident that it is located in an isolated place and far from the city. And that woman is now there in front of her, holding a still dripping bucket.

"Well wake up... I was afraid I exaggerated with the narcotic, but I see that I have not lost my hand after all this time" Irene's voice is cold, calm, ironic but not at all funny, while looking at the woman in front of her. Her hair is collected in her classic hairstyle, serious and austere, her body wrapped in a little black dress that highlights her still perfect shapes. She puts the bucket on the table moving on high heels with her usual and natural elegance.

Lydia looks at her and recognizes that she has before her eyes The Woman, the dominatrix. She has heard a lot of talk about her, but she believed she belonged to the past, but perhaps, she reflects, she made an error of assessment.

"How... how did it happen? How did you do it?" Lydia's voice is almost incredulous.

"But how much little imagination my dear, I should not explain it, but since we have a lot of time to have fun together, I can even tell you. Do you know that many years ago I installed a software on Sherlock's phone to read the messages he received? He also installed it himself in the new one, when he changed the phone. To be honest that software I used only at the beginning, just to check that he received my messages, I had totally forgotten about it, but to know the place of the appointment tonight was really useful," Irene replies with an ironic and satisfied laugh.

"Whatever you are going to do... it's crazy... Stop... it's still time to get back" Lydia's voice is hoarse, but she tries to have a quiet, sure tone.

"Oh yes, we talk about this, stop before madness" Irene says, giving her back while starting to pull out from the bag a series of tools. Whips of various sizes and bills, strange pliers, objects that only look at them cause a series of shivers of terror in Lydia.

"For example, my dear... it would have been extremely clever of you to stop before thinking of getting your hands on my man." Irene on the last words takes a big flat knife from the duffle and approaches the woman.

"I did not do anything and you are completely crazy," Lydia tells her, keeping her eyes on that knife.

"It's not nice at all, and not even smart, if I can tell you, says to a woman that she is a crazy woman, when she has a knife in her hands" Irene says approaching her, and while resting her left hand on the wall at the side of her head, with her right hand approaches tip of the knife to Lydia's lips.

"Do you think maybe I'm stupid? I do not know what's in your stupid little head, but believe me... it was the worst idea you could have... because I repeat it... Sherlock is my man... and I will not let you take him away from me so easily," Irene whispers in a calm, almost sensual tone, but that provokes in Lydia a series of shivers of terror that she did not think she could try. Her lips tremble and the tip of the knife causes a small cutlet from which a little blood comes out.

"Now do the good and stay still, otherwise you make everything worse and make things more difficult" Irene still whispers, by running the tip of the knife on the woman's shirt and one by one makes all the buttons jump open completely.

"What do you want to do with me? Stop this madness" Lydia tries to rebel, but the chains are tight. Irene laughs softly as she sees her wriggling.

"Delicious... rebelled as well... it will be more fun," she says, moving away to return to the table, where she puts the knife and then take a series of objects in her hands as if she were deciding from which to start.

"Miss Adler, all this is useless, believe me, I had no aim on Sherlock, believe me" Lydia's voice is altered by fear, a fear she has never remembered.

"You're not very convincing, you know, you have to try harder... or rather... do not say anything anymore... you're distracting me and I have to choose whether to start... with the whip or maybe try some particular punishment on those beautiful breasts... maybe together," Irene tells her, keeping her back to the woman.

"Miss Adler please believe me, it was all a fiction, I did not really want to seduce Sherlock, I was just trying to distract him," Lydia's voice is almost desperate now.

Irene turns slowly towards her and with a whip in her hand approaches her.

"Distract him from what?" She asks her with her authoritative tone, but Lydia looks at her without answering, as if she realized she had said too much.

Irene's hand moves with confidence and speed and with a stroke hits her in the face. "I do not like repeating myself, distracting him from what?" she still asks her with the arm ready to hit her again.

"Miss Adler if now you stop, me and you can make a deal and I think it will be very convenient" Lydia tells her trying to ward off this feeling of panic that grips her.

"You are not in a position to make pacts and if you do not tell me now everything you have to tell me, you will have no other chance to talk, I assure you" Irene's voice is hard and sharp and her look provokes shivers.

"I can make you come back to have all the power that Miss Adler once had... much more, you will have at your feet the whole country, believe me... If you free me now, together we can recreate Moriarty's network and lead it together" Lydia whispers trying to regain the calm and strength that has always distinguished her.

"Moriarty?" When Irene hears that name, she lowers her hand with the whisk "the network of Moriarty was completely dismantled years ago by Sherlock" she adds, looking at the woman with curiosity.

"The active network... but not the dormant one, Moriarty had created a dormant network, men and women scattered across all the government departments, but just use the right word and the agents come back to work... ready to obey the command of who has inherited the network" now Lydia's voice is safer and more determined, because she knows she has caught the attention of the woman in front of her.

"I see, and let me guess... you're the one who inherited his net," Irene tells her, arching an eyebrow.

"Exactly, I had been ordered to remain dormant even to his disappearance and to wait for the right time to recreate the network, and the right time is now"

"And why ever? What must happen that is so special that it awakens the whole network?"

"Hunting remote control software is finally ready. Here's what's special"

"And what does this software have to do with Sherlock?" Irene asks again in a clearly skeptical tone of voice.

"The husband of the charred woman in the car accident... that man is holding the code we need to recreate the software, but does not want to give it to us... he has staged his wife's death to keep her safe from our threats, but we understood it and needed to distract Sherlock from the car accident, that the stupid man wanted to create. We know the skills of the detective and if we had not created a diversion, he would certainly have started investigating and creating problems for our plans. This is the reason of the theft at the museum and the attempt to distract him in every way" Lydia now looks like a river in flood, while she talks and almost forgot to be still tied and half naked.

"I understand, an ingenious plan I have to admit, Molly must have sensed something... is that why you sent her into a coma?" Irene question without showing any emotion.

"Yes, we have underestimated that woman," Lydia admits.

"Again... I would dare to say" Irene adds with an almost ironic tone "well... the chat was fun... now we pick up where we stopped... the whip seems to work well... maybe now we also hit the other side of the face... you know I love symmetry" she finally says, approaching a few steps while the hand rises again ready to strike.

"No, stop Miss Adler, I'm telling you the truth, I can prove it to you" Lydia's voice is almost a scream now.

"How can you prove it? Everything you say is just a bunch of lies, you know my story and you tried to find my weak point, it's a pity I do not believe you... it would be fun to pick up the beloved's network Jim"

"My phone, in the pants pocket, it should still be there. Call the Richards phone number... just say the code name _"Lord"_ and he will answer _"Moran"._ Richards is the museum's security man and it's part of the dormant network that I'm bringing to light"

"Lord... Moran? As the Lord that Sherlock get captured before he blew up Westminster with a bomb under the subway tunnels?" Irene question with a clearly intrigued and interested tone.

"Yes, right... Lord Moran... he was Moriarty's lieutenant," Lydia replies, now more sure of herself.

"Well, this is interesting, my dear," Irene tells her, smiling at her. She then approaches her with a hand, slowly pulling the phone out of her trouser pocket and then moving away and placing the crop on the table. She turns then and always smiling, looking at her, just tilting her head.

"Have you heard?"

"I heard everything" Sherlock's voice almost seems to reverberate in the darkness of the cellar and Lydia's eyes widen in surprise.

"What? But how... I do not understand," she whispers, watching the man appear from a dark corner of the cellar and approach Irene.

"You do not understand Miss Meyers... I'm not surprised at all... Lord Moran... how little imagination you have in the slogans... fortunately, the active Moriarty network like the sleeper one has very little of his genius" Sherlock says looking at her with mockery.

"So it was all a bluff this? All this stunt to get me out of the truth? Well done, really a nice little theater. And since Mr. Holmes, have you understood that?" Lydia's voice has now gone from panic to rage.

"But you really are so stupid enough to think you could distract me by planning that theft and playing to mimic Irene? You do not even get her little finger. Women do not flirt with me, Miss Meyers... they usually send me to hell. If they do, they have a purpose, the nuances that others do not see, say me all the truth, Miss Meyers," Sherlock replies, then turns to Irene, who is looking at him with her particular smile.

"Definitely adorable" she tells him approaching and before he answers she raises her right hand behind his neck and attracts him to kiss him with passion. An intense kiss, fierce almost animalistic that leaves both breathless.

"Just to clarify the point" she whispers to his lips before leaving and put all the tools back into the bag.

"Well, Miss Meyers, thanks for the password, now we can also dismantle the farce of the exchange under the bridge that you had built just to distract me again, stop all the actors and finish the work to get rid of this sleeper network once and for all" Sherlock finally says taking the bag off the table.

"You do not want to leave me here bound to die?"

"What do you thing we are, Miss Meyers? We're not so sadistic... not too much at least" Sherlock replies, with an ironic smile "be quiet, soon they will come to get you" he adds, before leaving the cellar with Irene.

Once outside, Sherlock picks up the phone and dials a text message to his brother.

**Sherlock:** "Lord" ---- "Moran"

**Mycroft:** fantasy is not really their skill. I start the operation. We'll come after to take Miss Meyers. You come to pick up your daughter, because she is sucking all my energy.

Sherlock reads Mycroft's reply message aloud, making Irene laugh. When they get close to their car, they put the bag in the trunk. He turns to Irene and looks at her with an intensity that she recognizes instantly. Thousands of thoughts and emotions are now being released in his mind. The pain and suffering for Molly's state, the rage for not having thought that she could be in danger, all that time to pretend indifference and coldness towards Irene, who instead makes his heart beat with a single glance, make believe to John that he flirted with that stupid woman, all these emotions now seem to have to make him explode and somehow have to quiet them.

"We have no time" she tells him with that particular smile.

"They will not arrive before an hour," Sherlock replies as he approaches and slowly pushes her against the hood of the car.

"Well, then maybe we have some time... Mr. Holmes" Irene whispers, barely biting her lip, putting her hands behind his neck.

"What did you say to that woman before... repeat it... I want to hear you say it" Sherlock whispers, breathing on her lips as his hands run over her legs, raising her dress.

Irene looks at him, feeling the excitement go up immediately and mix with the adrenaline, that the whole scene she played before left her in her body. She looks at him and understands his deep need to make thoughts and worries disappear for a few moments and understands how necessary this is for her too.

"Mine... you are Mine" she whispers on his lips before kissing him with all the passion she is capable of.

Sherlock suffocates a moan in her mouth and with his hands raises her, making her sit partly on the hood while her legs tighten around his waist. Those words come into him and make him shiver like a lightning strike, make him tremble with a deep, almost primordial desire, a feeling of total and possessive belonging that he did not think he could prove, that he did not believe was in his nature.

A sudden strong and powerful desire overwhelms him. He kisses her passionately, feeling their tongues meet and chase each other. He opens his trousers and without being able to wait any longer, he moves aside her painties and with a single decisive and strong movement, enters her by stifling a hoarse moan in her mouth, which mixes with hers.

He stops only for a few moments, looks at her and sees in her eyes the reflection of his own soul, of his own desires. Without looking away, he starts to move, strongly, as if he wanted to sink into her, holding her hips with a sure grip, while Irene's legs hold him tight.

At each thrust he hears Irene's moans that excite him more and the thrusts slowly become more and more rapid, almost fierce, until in his mind there is total emptiness and everything is filled by that single word spoken by her and by another that is its mirror. " _Mine... My Woman"_.


	12. Chapter 12

**London - St. Bart's hospital - 10 February 2021 - 4.30 pm**

A whole life behind a glass. This is the feeling that he is now feeling. A whole life, its joys and its pains, its hopes and its failures, dreams and illusions, all enclosed in an instant behind this glass.

Sherlock observes Molly's room from behind the glass, the bunches of flowers have tripled in the last few days, because in her shy humanity, Molly is as loved as she herself even imagines. Colleagues, friends, Alex, even him, Sherlock, can not stop himself from loving her. It is a different love from what he feels for Irene, different from what he feels for Miki and his daughter, also different from what he feels for John, but it is still a form of love. He knows, it took years to learn to understand, manage and live his emotions, but now he knows. And Molly is now there in that bed, surrounded by the love of all of them. There are almost everyone in that room now. John and Eleonor with Rosie and little William, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Alex, of course, and also Irene with Miki and little Mary. Almost all his world is now in that room beyond this glass and Molly's eyes, woke up that same morning, are tired but shining, because she feels the love of which she is surrounded and maybe it was just this energy to give her the strength to fight and return to life.

Sherlock moves from the glass and slowly opens the door as he enters the room.

"I hope you get back in as little time as possible... your substitutes at the laboratory and at the morgue are real incompetents" he tells her approaching the bed.

Molly smiles at him but does not have the strength to answer except with a simple gesture of a hand.

"Oh God, Sherlock, leave her rest, now she just has to think about getting better and she'll take all the time she needs," Mrs. Hudson intervenes, shaking her head.

Sherlock smiles at her and after taking Molly's hand he bends down to kiss her cheek.

"I'm sorry I did not understand that before Molly... this could have been avoided if I had been more careful," he whispers before getting up again.

Molly does not answer but smiles and squeezes his hand as if to tell him to feel comfortable, that he is not to blame.

"Did you hear about Moriarty's network? Did Mycroft manage to eliminate it permanently?" John asks, drawing his friend's attention.

"Yes, it's definitely over now.The last cell was taken this morning, with Lydia Meyers phone and the password, we were able to bring out all the cells in the network before they knew she had been captured. Mycroft agent managed to perfectly simulate her voice and to deceive everyone," Sherlock replied, approaching Irene now to take Mary from her arms.

"But then let me understand... exactly, when do you suspected of her?" Greg asks. In these days he was so taken up with the closure of the case of the theft, between arrests and bureaucracy, that he had not yet studied some details.

"I would say almost immediately, but it was just a feeling, a thought that I materialized when we left the museum, thanks to John" Sherlock answers smiling at his daughter who as always seems to love the sound of his voice.

"Really? Sometimes I'm surprised of my own abilities," John replies ironically.

"Now I'll explain. The robbery was clearly well organized but there are no spells and if there is no magic, the bracelet could not disappear in the space of a second.The only possible and logical solution was that the video had been counterfeit and all cleverly tampered alarm systems. When I entered the control room, I noticed that the museum server was not connected directly to an external internet, for security reasons, but other computers were. If one of those computers was connected to the server, then a good hacker could enter the server network and change the video files, making sure to make them look exactly the originals and not counterfeit. But then there was that _"Yes Sir"_ that gave a greater sense to all"

"I'm losing, wait... which one _yes sir_?" Greg question puzzled.

"Richards, the security man in the control room, talking on the phone to let us know that we were watching the videos, expressed with a _"Yes Sir"_ but when his manager arrived he answers him with a simple _"yes"_. I noticed it immediately, a nuance that my mind had registered but only thanks to John I could understand it"

"Thanks again... Now I know you have fun keeping us on tenterhooks and probably your daughter has a lot of fun listening to you... but if you could be less criptically, we would all be grateful" John tells him not being able to not notice the captured gaze of Mary while listening to Sherlock's words.

"His case stories for her are better than goodnight stories... believe me on the word, John," Irene intervenes with a slight laugh.

"So... if you stop worrying about me and my daughter, maybe I can finish... What I wanted to say is that when John pointed out to me that this woman was trying to flirt with me, well, it was easy to connect the dots. A woman who flirts with me is a very rare event... if not impossible, at that point I remembered the words of Richards and I realized that when he called the phone he had not called his manager but just her. A former belonging to some military department, which I had deduced immediately, and so it is natural to turn in that way to those who really consider his superior. After all, Meyers was the first to appear in the room. At that point I began to suspect of her and started my investigation, asking Mycroft to dig into her past, but nothing came out of it and above all, damn me, I did not immediately understand that the damn theft was just a diversion to keep me away from that that the network was more pressing... get their hands on the remote command software of the British fighters" the last words are almost expressed with anger.

"But then... when Meyers showed up at 221B and then Irene arrived... you already suspected her... are you telling me that I witnessed a scene?" John question, raising his eyes to the sky for having been kept outside the whole plan.

"I wanted to push her to trust me and see where she wanted to come in. With Mycroft, we were deadlocked, even though we did not know what route to take at that moment, it was Molly's accident that made us decide for the final plan. I have asked the agent Pendergast for help who, through his hacker friend, has managed to give me the connection points that were missing between the theft and the accident of the charred woman.The body belonged to a woman who died of a heart attack and not to his wife. Logan's husband to protect her staged the fake incident using her remote control software on the car and paying one of the lab analysts to tamper with the DNA results, requested by Molly. It was clear at that point that Meyers had something big in her plan and there was only one way to push her to talk. Luckily Irene knows how to be very... very convincing," Sherlock concludes, finally smiling.

"Well... the drugs we injected her, that increase the feeling of panic in cases of high stress, was certainly a great help" Irene adds, taking Mary again in her arms.

"You would have succeeded even without drugs... I'm sure" Sherlock answers, remaining at her side.

"Well... I pretend not to have heard this last part about the drug and the kidnapping of Meyers... so much is a file in the hands of the government and I keep myself off, you too Miki, forget what you heard, " Greg says, shaking his head, even if he realizes how sometimes the means a little bit out of the rules used by Sherlock really come back very useful.

"I'm going to study law and enter the police, so Greg believe me... I've already forgotten everything he just said" Miki replies chuckling.

"This story of entering the police we still have to clarify" Sherlock intervenes and before Miki can reply even Mary seems to want to enter the discussion, by reiterating her incomprehensible sounds "mi ... ci... mi... ci".

Irene looks at her smiling and after a few moments she opens her eyes and then starts laughing.

"What's up, did she say something new, I do not think so," Sherlock asks, perplexed.

"Oh God, Sherlock, she's definitely your daughter, those words she says... She does not want to say mice... your daughter is trying to say _"homicide"_... the first word of Mary is homicide... I fear that Scotland Yard will never get rid of the Holmes" Irene answers, continuing to laugh, followed almost by almost everyone. Then she pulls him to herself to kiss him on the lips.

Sherlock is the only one to remain initially puzzled, but then he smiles, wondering if it's normal to feel happy because the first word of your daughter is not dad but murder. But fortunately none of them is normal, including Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is also finished. 
> 
> For the first words that Mary says I was inspired by a legend that goes online and I read in a fic, I do not remember which. It was too funny to not bring it back. 
> 
> If you liked it, you can still read another long story that I have already written and published in Italy and which will soon translate. There will be some very dramatic events, but I do not want to anticipate anything. 
> 
> Thanks to those who comment and leave kudos but also thanks to those who silently read and appreciate. See you at the next adventure


End file.
